


Rain

by DancingFish



Series: My Dear Umbrella [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Other, Umbrellas, pooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingFish/pseuds/DancingFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of Mycroft Holmes and his beloved umbrella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

Mycroft wiped the water from his umbrella’s folds with exaggerated care. Together they’d been caught in the rain. The rain had not been too harsh nor had it been something to scoff at. Regardless, he kept Mycroft dry. Mycroft was grateful for the protection. In thanks, he cleaned him.

Mycroft’s umbrella was one of the few umbrellas that did not like the rain. The rain, he thought, was unclean and had no business dropping itself down upon his elegant fabric. The rain was rude and filthy. He would have no problem with the rain if it did not choose to pour down upon him and Mycroft every chance it got. Yet, it did. He had no choice but to spread himself out to protect his lifelong companion Mycroft Holmes from its seemingly endless attack.

Mycroft knew this. In fact, he was very familiar with the umbrella’s hatred of the rain as he complained about it every time it rained. “Perhaps I should get another umbrella,” he would say when he was in one of his sulks. “Maybe I should get an umbrella who doesn’t mind the rain.” When he said this the umbrella would become distant, at these times it was almost as if he was an inanimate object. Almost immediately Mycroft would regret his unkind words. He would fetch a fresh towel and clean him. 

This was almost exactly how events had transpired before Mycroft had begun his drying of the umbrella once again. Almost. The rain through which they had traveled was really only a light drizzle. The umbrella had opened without complaint when they’d stepped into it. What upset him that night had little to do with the rain. It was the leaning. Mycroft had the most annoying habit of leaning on his umbrella. He leaned on his umbrella for much the same reason that his brother turned up his coat collar. He thought it made him look cool. And maybe it did but that did not make it any less painful of an experience for the umbrella. It was not physically painful, he could not feel pain in that way, but it did hurt his pride to be used like as if he were a walking stick. He was now scuffed at his end, a constant reminder of Mycroft’s disregard for his feelings.  
Mycroft always made his excuses. He’d forgotten, or he’d thought the ground was smooth enough for the umbrella to rest upon. Tonight he claimed he was distracted. The meeting they’d attended was a very important one. It was important that he make an impression on Dr. Watson. He claimed his umbrella made all the difference. While this was probably true, the umbrella still did not appreciate being thrust nose down into the cold, damp pavement and leaned upon by a man who was clearly not keeping to his diet.

“I am so very sorry, Pooky,” he whispered to his umbrella. It was silly but once the umbrella heard this all was forgiven. As always, he would forgive his queen of all wrong doings.


End file.
